


Of Dragons and Wolves

by cassini-huygens (nervous_peach)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, POV Third Person Omniscient, Skyrim Civil War, might change up the story a lot bc i dont know whats going to happen next either, the elisif/torygg is minor, will add more tags as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23555260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervous_peach/pseuds/cassini-huygens
Summary: Elisif and the Dragonborn's very bad, no good, terrible adventure to stop the end of the world...and to handle some minor political disputes.Due to personal reasons, Elisif is "dead" (read: Stormcloak victory came much earlier on and now Elisif has been forced into exile).
Relationships: Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Elisif the Fair, Elisif the Fair/Torygg
Kudos: 3





	Of Dragons and Wolves

The Monomyth goes like this: a person is thrust into chaos, let's call it a "call to adventure", so radically different from their day to day. They have the choice of either giving up and dying or accepting their new role. Unbeknownst to our "hero", they _cannot_ choose to walk away and ignore the problem. Destiny is unavoidable if you believe that sort of thing. So they are forced into the abyss, for peace is never won without a war. The journey will irreversibly change them. There is no going back to whom they once were. From this metamorphosis comes the boon, the world's and their salvation. _If_ they are so fortunate, they will deliver the boon, and it will be happily ever after. If not...well, it's a happily ever after for the other side (what a wonder silver linings are!). 

Each person you have ever met, each person you will ever meet, is going through a Monomyth. We are either the hero or villain in our own story.

It is within Bosmeri tradition to preserve these stories (sometimes even enhance them if you're a Spinner, but that's a discussion for another time).

  
You, dear reader, will be the witness to two tales morphed into one.

  
I will not tell you who I am, it's inconsequential. I am omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. My roots are deeply set in this world, having left all else beyond. Some could call me a God; I don't care. All I care for is to witness every living thing, to know all there is to know. No story will go untold under my gaze. 

  
**Their stories begin and end with disaster, and that is the price of being a hero.  
**

* * *

> _You shelter us e'er from the storm,_  
>  _You defend us from the angry swarm,_  
>  _War can't tear your mighty root,_  
>  _Strength is in your every fruit._
> 
> _-[Ode to the Elden Tree](https://www.imperial-library.info/content/ode-elden-tree)_

Elisif's teeth chattered violently as she gripped onto Bolgeir like a lifeline. Blood was gushing from his stomach, the barbed arrow buried deep as he stared at the ashen ceiling (once, it was beautiful), eyes wide with shock. She was losing him as she'd lost everyone. She wanted to throttle him, to scream that it was better her than him.  
What a pitiful excuse of a Queen, she thought to herself from where they hid between the crates in the kitchen. They couldn't hide from the screams, from the smell of fire and that metallic taste of blood.

  
They were looking for her, they had to be. Any soldier who could bring the "Imperial Puppet-Queen's" head would be held in the highest esteem.  
Morbidly, she thought how they'd be doing her a favor ending this nightmare.

How was she to face her people after their homes were destroyed, their kin slaughtered?

How was she to go on living when every person she's ever grown to love in this Palace was gone?

Bolgeir's breaths were labored now, pulse faint. She knew there was no saving him, so she cradled him closer, hoping to make his departure a peaceful one. She owed him as much considering he took the arrow for her.

Their faces were close now as she softly soothed words of comfort. Bolgeir reached up to cup her face, rasping hoarsely, "Past the stairs, through the door, out the back entrance to the city gates. Find Sybille." He gave her a shaky smile as the light in his eyes began to vanish, "May the Nine preserve you, Your Highness. To serve and die for you has been an honor."

He was gone. She was alone again.

She wanted to feel ill, to feel grief, to want to weep and scream. Anything but numb. Her world was falling apart and she didn't feel a thing, as if she was in a bad dream. She smoothed her hand over Bolgeir's eyes, whispering goodbye. Pulling him off her lap, she got up on shaky legs and peaked through the cobwebs. The Palace was nearly silent now, save for the metallic footsteps of Stormcloak soldiers.

Holding her breath, she eased her way along the walls, carefully avoiding the light. The stairs downwards were in her sight. She'd almost reached it when she felt herself step on something wet and mushy.   
The master chef, Odar, or at least what was left of him.  
Someone had torn out his bowels and left him there like a discarded toy. She jerked her head up, willing herself to keep down this morning's meal.

Odar had made her favorite dish that day, and here he was, here he was--

Focus. _ **Focus.**_

She inched down the stairs, feeling along the wall for the loose stone. Worrying her lip between her teeth, she wondered what she'd do if the soldiers above heard the grating of stone against stone. They'd be bound to follow her down, then what?  
To her relief, she noticed a crack of moonlight coming through. It was opend just enough for her to squeeze through.

Once she stumbled out the gates, all her strength left her body. She could see the plumes of smoke blossoming within the city walls and a little farther at the farms that surrounded its periphery. The bastards couldn't even leave them.

The grass was cold beneath her, coated in early winter's frost (did the cold ever leave Solitude?). It felt safe, the wet dew cool against her feverish skin.  
She was swimming in the moonlight. Masser and Secunda were full tonight, Secunda painted red by the plumes of smoke.

Why had she ever thought she was alone? The moons, the grass, the earth; she'd return to all of them she was never alone never never never.

Footsteps shuffled behind her, and she froze. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, for thinking that maybe if she sat still like a helpless fawn, they wouldn't notice her.  
It took everything in her not to scream when icy fingers touched her shoulder.

"Your Highness?" a woman's voice spoke softly.

Oh.

Elisif began to shake with barely repressed sobs, vision blurring with tears. "Sybille, Sybille, oh gods Sybille-"

  
The mage brought herself down to the ground with her and held her tightly, rocking and shushing her as if she were a child again. "I need you to stay strong, your Highness, we're almost to safety."

  
"Safety!" Elisif laughed bitterly, clawing at Sybille's robes, daring her to try to leave her grasp, leave her alone. "Where is that? The grave? Tell me where we're safe Sybille, tell me where on Nirn we could be safe.

She felt it all rushing in, the pressure on her skull maddening. She spoke in hurried breaths now. There wasn't enough air in her lungs, she was suffocating.

  
"Torygg is assassinated, then dragons begin to attack--the World-Eater, Sybille!--and now Solitude is destroyed and I'm _nothing_ , a fugitive in my own home. Where am I safe? Where are _you_ safe? Everyone I've ever cared for is _dead_." Her voice rose higher and higher, hoarse with grief. "Why are you here? Do you want to run towards doom far a nobody, too?"

"Your Highness-"

"You're going to die, Sybille, you're going to be murdered right in front of me if you don't leave now!" She was nearly screaming now.

" _Elisif_ ", the mage hissed, gripping her wrists so tightly it hurt. "Breathe".

She chocked out a sob, the loud rage and grief cooled by desperation, softer, softer, and she whispered, "How can I breathe when I'm drowning, Sybille?"

Sybille stroked her hair and retorted firmly, "You aren't drowning, and neither of us is dead. I certainly don't intend to die any time soon, I ask that you do the same. If you listen to me, we'll both get out of this relatively unharmed. Put your faith in me as you always have, understand?" Elisif slowly nodded in return. "Good."

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

> There is a noise in your head, a buzzing of a thousand insects banging against your skull as they try to escape.  
>  You scratch at your scalp. It doesn't stop. You scratch harder. It doesn't stop the noise never stops it never does.
> 
>   
>  There is a loudness in you, you know it well, and once the world knew it well too. But the world is gone, everyone you loved is gone. Your grandmother, your friends and comrades, and your ex-lover are dead.
> 
> All you see is gold. All you see is cruel greens and blues glaring at you, hating you in a way you never knew another person to.
> 
>   
>  They burned the trees, the plants, the land. They burned your home. They made you eat the plants and you wanted to throw up because it was wrong it wasn't right they were defiling the land and you were too much of a coward to not comply. They made you dig giant holes for hours under the sun now that the canopy that you played in your whole life was gone. The bodies, the bodies all thrown in and this isn't what we do this is wrong and they know it.
> 
>   
>  They're monsters and you hate them you hate them more than anything you want to see the **gold covered in red**.
> 
> Even when you ran from the jungle to the forest, they followed. Even in the snow, they lurked still.
> 
> Then there is fire, and you're sure they sent it. A terrible beast blasting your ears and burning everything down, killing families, just like they did to you.
> 
>   
>  You can't run away.
> 
> Still, when you look at the beast you can feel its anger. You know it so well, it's always burned in you. Little fires catching on foliage till it's a raging storm.
> 
> You bare your teeth back at it and you think to yourself, "We are the same we are the same".
> 
> You are the monster. You can't outrun them, they're just like you. You are just like them.
> 
> There is a noise in your head, a buzzing of a thousand insects banging against your skull as they try to escape. You scratch at your scalp. It doesn't stop. You scratch harder.
> 
> It doesn't stop
> 
> the noise never stops
> 
> it never does
> 
> never
> 
> **never**
> 
> **NEVER**
> 
> **NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER**
> 
> **IT DOESN'T STOP WHY WON'T IT STOP**
> 
> **STOP**
> 
> **who's going to save you little beast who's going to protect you now who who who who**
> 
> **Wake up.**

"My thane", Lydia whispered, hand on the sleeping woman's shoulder. "My thane, wake up."

There were tearmarks on the woman's face, but they were cleaned up by her dog, Meeko, his tongue trying to soothe her like he would a little pup.

She woke with a start, jolting up, scaring Meeko off her.

Disoriented, she blinked. Then she blinked again. What was that smell?

  
She wrinkled her nose. "Oh", she spoke plainly. "Thank you for the kisses, Meeko."

Lydia chuckled at her thane's distaste, alerting her to her presence. She stared at her wide-eyed like she'd never seen her before in her life.

"Good morning, my thane."

The woman groaned, "No, no! We talked about this. Zifri, not "my thane", none of the "your sword and shield stuff", not any fancy title you can think of". Pressing her hand against a cheek, Zifri mumbled, "Makes me feel weird. We're equals, after all."

Lydia tilted her head and nodded. "Very well", a pause as she tested the sound on her tongue, "Zifri."

  
With that, she left Zifri alone, walking downstairs. Zifri watched her leave, not saying another word.

Finally, alone, Zifri pushed off the quilt, exposing her lap. Patting her thigh, she beckoned Meeko. The dog was only too eager to oblige.

For those few moments where the dark blue sky disappeared into dawn, they sat on her bed, Zifri scratching behind Meeko's ears with one hand, tracing down his winter coat with the other.

"I'm embarrassed", she confessed to him. "I'm sorry you had to see that, whatever it is you saw. Hopefully", a heavy sigh, "nothing, if Lady Luck's finally gracing me."

Meeko wagged his tail in response. "Good, good." Leaning her head back against the wall, she continued, "I haven't had one of those in a while".

She closed her eyes. She'd keep this thought to herself.

  
The fire was new. The dragon was new.

Then again, it'd only been a few months since she'd fought off a dragon in Whiterun, heard a booming call from the top of the highest point in the land, and promptly high tailed it back to her home in Haafinger (though, it bordered pretty closely to Hjaalmarch).

  
She couldn't shake off Lydia who kept insisting she'd honor her duty as her Housecarl, and it drove Zifri up the wall. Couldn't she, the Jarl, everyone who's ever had the misfortune of running into her tell that she just wanted to be _alone_?  
On their way back, through the path that turned from marsh to forest, they'd met Meeko.

Zifri huffed a laugh at the memory, continuing to pet him.

  
He led them to the cabin where the dead man was. His skin was ashen, his lips and fingertips blue. It must have been a few days by then. It was a sad sight, seeing the dog lay by his dead owner's bedside. He must have realized that the man was never going to wake up.

  
Lydia picked up his journal and passed it to Zifri. It was open to a page where he'd penned a goodbye. Her eyes flickered to the dark, crimson vial on the worn nightstand. Suicide.

The two did the only sensible thing to do; they buried the man and left him a makeshift grave marker.

When Zifri came back to the cabin looking for Meeko, hoping to give him some food, he was missing. Disappointed, she crouched by the door and left him the jerky. Glancing up one last time to the tree-lined sky, she felt a pang of _something_ ; she couldn't describe what that emotion was. She thought of all the mornings the dog and his owner must have had together right in this spot, bathed by the streaming sunlight, surrounded by the flowers that lived even in winter. Dropping her chin, she spoke a quiet goodbye and left.

The next time they'd see him again was at Zifri's home. Somehow, Meeko had managed to tail them over. Zifri wasn't in her right mind, so full of endearment. She complimented his sharp nose and welcomed him into her new makeshift family.

This was not how she'd planned to spend her days.

-

"Elisdriel, darling Elisdriel", she crooned, hugging the tree tightly. "Where would I be without you?"

Elisdriel was the name of the tree she lived in. First, a seedling gifted to her by her grandmother before ███████████████, she'd planted it once she got to Skyrim. Over the next 20 years, Zifri nursed the seedling into maturation. The two had formed a bond that only two living creatures with intertwined souls could do. Zifri gave, and Elisdriel took and returned what they willed.

Zifri was skeptical at first; these weren't the forests of Valenwood, after all. Soon, she came to understand that nature was nature wherever you go. The Elden Root found home not just in Grahtwood, but Tamriel as a whole. Elisdriel became Zifri's new home, a piece of her old home carried with her. A piece of a kinder memory that she could linger in.

In the branches of Elisdriel sat her home, respectively. The beds and the arrow crafting station on the top floor, the alchemy station, and kitchen on the lower. Walking across the bridge tying from one set of tree limbs to another sat the spiraling building that housed the library and armory. Down the ladder was her garden, blooming with mushrooms, crops, and flowers of all kinds. Nearby were two artificial watering holes, dug to catch the stream of melting ice water flowing down from the peaks of the surrounding mountains. In one hole, Zifri charged the bedrock with enchantments to manipulate its temperature as she willed; whether that be for bathing, watering her crops, or for Meeko to play in. In the other, the water remained unaltered, used for alchemy and cooking.

The animals that visited her throughout the day always made her smile. Before Lydia and Meeko, they were her sole company (well, omitting the occasional bandits). She had been happy then, safely tucked away from people. Still, as she'd sit by the cliffside watching the sunset paint the mountain tops crimson, an empty feeling would nag at her. Something was missing, something so important that it ate away at her more and more each day.

Zifri plopped down across from Lydia on the bench. Lydia, she'd realized, was just as gifted at cooking as she was. Today had been Lydia's turn to make breakfast. Zifri eyed the food hungrily, gaze flickering between Lydia and the mouthwatering cinnamon gorapples she'd made. It seemed Lydia had something on her mind.

"You got a letter today", she began.

"Did I now?", Zifri answered, not particularly paying any attention.

"There was no name, no address. The courier seemed kind of out of it too. He shoved it into my hand, wheezed about it being extremely urgent, then ran off."

"Mmm", face stuffed with gorapples.

"You should give it a look", Lydia continued, sliding the worn parchment across the table.

The two sat in silence for the next 10 minutes. It couldn't be helped, Zifri was too stubborn to begin functioning until after breakfast, and really who could think when there were gorapples just sitting there? It wasn't until she was lazily sipping on snowberry tea that Zifri noticed the bloodstain on the corner of the folded paper, a familiar wax symbol now drawn on the back of the paper rather than stamped on.

Placing down her mug, Zifri took the letter, unfolding it to investigate.

> Spriggan,
> 
> Trouble at home, I'm coming your way.
> 
> You know how much I hate asking for help, but this is something even I can't handle.
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Nightshade

Clenching her jaw, clenching the paper, Zifri processed the new development. She recognized who it was from by the "wax seal" alone, but the code names that she'd once jokingly coined (to her friend's distaste) reaffirmed her dread.

Rarely did Sybille write. Rarer still did she ask for help. Zifri refolded the letter, folding again till it was one compact square. Lydia watched her intently as Zifri drummed her fingers against the table.

"You're nervous", she noted.

"Mmm", another noncommittal response. 

"Can I pry?"

"Something happened", Zifri let out a shaky sigh, running calloused fingers through her hair. "Sybille wouldn't do this otherwise."

"Stentor? The court mage in Solitude?" Lydia asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

"There's no date, nothing. She didn't even use any information that could identify us two and you know I could chalk it up to her being wary of the courier system, but you mentioned how the courier was out of it and now with this letter and--", Zifri took a deep breath, hissing through clenched teeth. "Solitude must have been attacked."

She wasn't looking at Lydia. She suddenly couldn't meet her eyes, guilt gnawing at her. She could hear the other breathe in sharply, she could see how tight her fists were clenched. "Another dragon attack?"

"No", Zifri answered, "I don't think so. I doubt it, though I mean _maybe_ I'm overestimating Sybille. But you know, I have trouble imagining her not being able to take down a dragon. Or, at the very least, having the pride to admit she couldn't take it down."

"Why else would she contact you? It's no secret that you--"

"I don't _know,_ but whatever it is it wasn't a dragon. You can see a dragon, you can prepare for one. Something caught her and the whole of Solitude off guard, something small but deadly. Something that overwhelmed them so badly that they fell to it."

Lydia nodded slowly, "So, what did she say?"

"She's coming here."

"I thought you never had visitors", she quirked an eyebrow and teased halfheartedly. 

Snorting, Zifri countered, "I don't, not anymore. But we're old acquaintances. She's the only one other than you who knows how to get here, who knows that this place even exists. Which means if she's coming here, she's coming to hide. No one can find her here."

"Who could she be running from?"

Zifri huffed a nervous laugh, "That's what scares me. Who would Sybille Stentor ever run from?"

**Author's Note:**

>  _[Elisdriel](https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/57371)_ is inspired by a Skyrim house mod I use!
> 
> I adore Bosmer lore. I can't get enough of these funky little mer. I'll be constantly dropping hints throughout the story about how invested in their lore I am. 
> 
> I hope the shift in narration isn't too confusing this chapter. Soon, it'll be one form of narration as soon as Elisif and Zifri meet each other.
> 
> I'd also like to thank _[simkjrs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simkjrs/pseuds/simkjrs)_ for inspiring me with their formatting in their story, " _[you wouldn't know what to do if you caught me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22273957)_ ". If you get the chance, be sure to check them and their phenomenal writing out.
> 
> Please please please don't hesitate to talk to me! The comments are open, I'm always eager to hear. You can catch me on my _[tesblr](https://theserpentstone.tumblr.com/)_ too, which I'm making an effort to be active on again. I'll be rubbing my brain cells together there about how to write this if you ever want to drop by. My asks are always open, and I'd love to talk about TES lore, whether canon or fanon.
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe during this pandemic. May our pain ease soon.


End file.
